


beasts and men

by scatteringmyashes



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteringmyashes/pseuds/scatteringmyashes
Summary: Patroclus has no interest in the arena, though he's been challenged many times. His fighting days are over and that is fine with him. The other occupants of Elysium are intent on changing that.Or: Five Times Patroclus Was Challenged And The One Time Someone Accepted
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 896





	beasts and men

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been drowning in this ship for ages and I finally got motivated to write a fic for them based off this [Twitter post.](https://twitter.com/catboyhubert/status/1312530416423694337?s=20) Thanks. I think? 
> 
> Regardless, I hope that you enjoy this!

**_One — Shades_ ** __

His early days were spent largely exploring, resting, and trying not to think too much about the situation above. The situation he had left, though not of his own volition. Then again, what else could have happened when he donned the armor of the hero of heroes? 

Patroclus did not think of himself as a person who deserved a spot in Elysium, but he was there and now there he would stay. 

There was not very much in Elysium. Lots of statues. Lots of green grass and clean, fresh air. If he stopped and closed his eyes, he could imagine he was above in Greece. 

He was not. There was no point in dwelling on it. 

Another common sight was that of the shades. Most were incorporeal or faded in and out, only visible from the corners of his eyes or if he turned his head quick enough to catch one before they disappeared entirely. Nothing that he could get his hands on or hold a conversation, though he didn't fancy one. 

Just. A bit of company could be nice. He'd even listen to Odysseus prattle on and on, if just to see a familiar face. 

When Patroclus had considered his death and what that meant for the rest of his existence, he hadn't pictured this. It made him miss Achilles — and oh, but that was a dangerous road to travel. 

Time didn't pass the way it would above, so he had well and truly lost sense of the days when he finally rest on a grassy knoll. There was a large statue in the distance, the helmet concealing whichever hero it was supposed to represent. The spear looked eerily familiar and Patroclus turned away before he could explore the feelings that stirred. 

There were a group of shades mingling a few yards away. Some had bows. Some had spears or shields. Patroclus couldn't recognize any of them. He didn't care. 

_ Only a moment's rest, _ he thought.  _ Then I may continue. _ He hadn't yet accepted that he would not find who he was seeking. He didn't want to. 

Patroclus was drifting into sleep when a shade in flickering armor approached, walking on spindly legs. 

"Stranger…" It intoned, low and deep as a canyon. "Whom do you serve?" Bright eyes stared at Patroclus from underneath a bronze helm. He regarded it with his own cautious gaze. 

"No one, now," he replied. 

The shade nodded slowly. Behind it, another one formed. It weirded a shield of iron, larger than it was tall. 

"Whom did you fight?" The first spirit asked, raising a thin hand and pointing towards his armor. Patroclus was suddenly struck by the fact that he had no weapon. It had not occurred to him to seek it, too preoccupied with other matters. 

"It does not matter," Patroclus insisted. "I fight no one now. Leave me in peace, shade." 

The one in front of him looked almost offended, if the tilt of its head was any indication. However, the one behind it backed away, seemingly content in ignoring Patroclus. 

_ Or finding no glory in an unwilling combatant, _ Patroclus thought dryly. 

"Go on," Patroclus encouraged them. He saw a few other spirits flickering in and out of the distance, no doubt drawn by the interaction. He was loathe to be perceived, always more comfortable in the background while another soaked up the attention. "Leave." 

And finally, with a chittering indistinguishable from madness, the shades vanished. Patroclus let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He was alone and, for a moment, he did not mind. 

**_Two — Theseus_ ** __

Because the Fates had already been cruel to him, Patroclus hoped that he would have a little bit of sympathy in the afterlife. He had lost hope of finding Achilles by now. That was too much to hope for, apparently. Whether it was because Achilles had gone for rebirth like a stubborn, heroic bastard or because Achilles was avoiding him like a stubborn, idiotic bastard was unclear. 

It didn't matter. 

Achilles was somewhere that Patroclus was not. It was, as the poets said, like the moon without the sun or the sky without the stars. There was a gaping wound lodged in the left side of Patroclus' chest, somewhere between his third and fourth ribs. He was empty. He was alone. 

Because the Fates had it out for him, he was not  _ alone _ in the literal sense. No, he had settled in a quiet part of Elysium but there were still passer-bys and those going elsewhere, most of whom ignored him but some of whom he wished would. 

"Greetings, stranger! I have returned," Theseus, the only hero Patroclus had ever considered strangling with his bare hands except for Agamemnon, shouted with a wave. His crown of laurels was perched artfully in golden curls. "Have you changed your mind about fighting me? I will even use my bare hands to give you a chance at winning." He flexed. Behind him, his companion snorted. 

"I have not changed my mind," Patroclus told him, not stirring from his position on the grass. "Leave me in peace." 

"But why are you so dour?" Theseus frowned, placing his hands on his hips. Behind him, Asterius hefted his double-headed axe over his shoulder. "You are in the realm of heroes, so I know you must have been a great man. Your armor marks you as a warrior, yet you have no interest in defending your honor or your legacy. So what is it, stranger? What is your goal?" 

Patroclus sighed, looking away from the duo. "I seek nothing." 

"But you would not be here if you were not a mighty warrior! At least let me know your name so I may know what deeds you have committed!" 

For a moment, Patroclus considered the comical nature of his life and death. His greatest deed was not even in his own name. Few would ever sing the praises of Patroclus, son of Meneotius, but the Muses could never stop extolling the great rage of Achilles. He wondered, truly, if Theseus would even recognize his true nature if provided. 

But Patroclus was done entertaining warriors and their honor and pride. When he did not respond, Theseus stepped forward with a heavy stride.

"You are being most rude, and I detest those who do not adhere to the standards of conversation between men. If you do not answer, then I will take that as a direct insult and will have to respond in kind," Theseus threatened. He may have been an intimidating figure, but Patroclus had seen Achilles at his worst and some flounce in a chiton was no match. 

Still, Patroclus wasn't quite sure what would happen if Theseus finally snapped and, as he had previously threatened, pierced his supple flesh with his unflinching spear. With that in mind, Patroclus sighed and looked Theseus in the eyes.

"There is no honor to be found in fighting me, stranger. You best be on your way." 

Before he could rage more, Asterius placed a hand on Theseus's shoulder. "Let us go. The arena awaits." 

With a final glare, Theseus strode away, muttering all the while about how no one dared challenge him and how dull his spear was growing. Asterius gave Patroclus one last look before following his compatriot. 

Patroclus closed his eyes and pretended that the warmth on his face was the sun, not the strange glow that filled Elysium, and that the soft caress against his face was the summer wind of Zephyrus, not the pale imitation that lurked below. He was, for a moment, alone. 

**_Three — Asterius_ ** __

It was unsurprising when the minotaur returned. 

Patroclus had not moved and Asterius did not seem surprised. The two looked at one another for a long time, monster and man. The whisper of shades drifted around them. While Patroclus was old news, Asterius was the companion and confidant of the champion of the arena — a prestigious title which attracted all manner around him, and by extension placed a burden on Asterius's shoulders. 

_ What a familiar concept, _ Patroclus thought.  _ We so quickly blame Icarus for growing too close, but does no one stop to think that he had no choice? A moth will burn itself to death if given the opportunity. The hottest flame dies first.  _

Which, of course, drew him to the natural thought of— 

_ Did you know you would die so young? Did you know that the Fates had weaved your tapestry so bright that the thread went out not even a quarter through? And I, the poor fool who placed everything with you — and I cannot even say I regret it, because I would do it again and again and again and—  _

"You are not a typical hero," Asterius declared. 

Patroclus inclined his head. 

"You are not offended." 

"You are not a typical hero," Patroclus replied. 

Asterius snorted. He pawed at the ground, hooves digging into the grass. He didn't have his axe so his hands were at his sides, though his fingers twitched every once in a while as if he weren't quite used to not having them wrapped around something more. 

"If you are hesitant to fight because you think there will be consequences, I can assure you that there will not be." 

"I do not hold that concern, but thank you." Patroclus rolled his shoulders. He hadn't lifted a spear in — in too long, but his muscles had not faded. His hair hadn't grown either, nor his beard. Convenient, if odd and unsettling. 

"Why take an oath of peace?" Asterius continued, gruff but not unkind. "You are dead. There is nothing left to lose."

"I would rather not discuss it," Patroclus told him. 

"Hmph. It is odd." Asterius snorted, shaking his head. "You are a warrior. Yet you deny yourself the joy of a fight. I do not understand." 

"Perhaps." Patroclus never had much taste for violence. He was a warrior by necessity, not love — or, rather, his love was for less the act and more what joy he could draw from seeing Achilles in motion. He was competent, had been trained just as well as the hero, but he was no natural. He was not blessed by the gods.

_ Yet you are here and he is not. Where is he if not dead? _

"You were enemies with the champion in life, but you are allies in death. Things change. Allow me that." 

Asterius squinted at him. "You are happy like this?" 

"I am content." Patroclus gestured with one lazy hand. "It is peaceful here. I told no quarrel against you or your master. Best leave it that way." Perhaps too late, Patroclus considered how his words could be treated as a threat, but Asterius did not seem to take it as such. 

The minotaur just bowed his head, another low snort escaping his nostrils. 

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Or us. Theseus would gladly fight someone new." He left without another word. 

Patroclus watched as the grooves Asterius had left were filled with new, green grass. 

**_Four — Zagreus_ ** __

"Hello, sir." It was him — Zagreus, son of Hades. Of course Patroclus knew who he was. He just didn't want to acknowledge it, well aware of the power the gods held and still frightened to invoke the lord of the dead.

Death himself was fine enough, flying through Elysium from time to time. Patroclus had died in battle and was not treated to a peaceful escort. But Hades… he was a different matter. 

"Stranger. You have returned." Patroclus regarded Zagreus with a closed expression. He was too excited, kept bouncing on his heels and shifting back and forth, a veritable coil of energy just stretching and vibrating every which way. 

Zagreus was using the spear today. He handled it with extreme skill and ease, a trained warrior more than anything else. He held it with one hand, typically, with powerful sweeping blows and quick dashes as he destroyed pots — absolutely unnecessary, as anyone could just turn the pots upside-down, but useful for Patroclus to see just how Achilles had taught him. 

It was odd, seeing the ghost of his lover in the movements and motions of a young god. There was the footwork Achilles had mastered on Mount Pelion. There was the grip adjustment, keeping control over the shaft but twisting it with such speed that only the unnatural could avoid. There was the subtle smirk, one Achilles had brought into battle just as readily as his armor. 

"I had a question for you, sir, if you don't mind me asking." Zagreus was not Achilles though, would never be. Patroclus did not intend him to be, locked away his pining with as much force as he could. "I was wondering if I could spar with you." 

It was not what Patroclus expected and his surprise must have been visible because Zagreus quickly added, 

"Not to the death or anything. I simply — I am curious what it is to fight someone who trained so closely with Achilles. I would like to see your abilities too, sir, if that is not too much to request."

"It is." Patroclus scowled. "You do not know what you ask." 

"Well — I was only wondering." Zagreus didn't seem offended as much as he was put off, a boy unused to someone  _ not _ wanting to fight him. "He is one of the greatest warriors in history. You are his peer. I only thought—" 

"I swore to never lift my spear again. You cannot change my mind." Patroclus took a deep breath. "I think you should move on, stranger." 

Zagreus nodded, accepting the moon with a polite bow. Then he was off, footsteps leaving scorch marks on the grass. 

**_Five — Achilles_ ** __

There had been a night once, eons ago, when Achilles and Patroclus had lay in bed with the wind blowing through their tent. The sound of the army seemed far away, the crackle of the fires just a soft echo in the distance. They were, for all intents and purposes, alone save for each other and that was all they needed. 

In the starlight, the only thing Patroclus could see were those blue eyes. He could feel the curve of his biceps, the warmth of his body, the soft scrape of his stubble and the silk of his hair. Achilles was close and Patroclus lay his head against his chest, hearing the sound of air blowing in and out, in and out. 

His heart, too, was audible.  _ Ba-bum. Ba-bum. _ The promise that Achilles was alive. Was safe. Was whole. 

"I love you," Achilles murmured. 

"I love you," Patroclus echoed. Achilles sighed. He shifted slightly, adjusting how Patroclus lay. Carefully, Patroclus pushed himself up, looking down at Achilles with a furrow in his brow. "Is something disturbing you?" 

Achilles hesitated, but he knew better than to try to lie. "I wish you would remain behind. I cannot shake this — this fear that you will be injured. That I will not be able to protect you." 

"I am just as much a soldier as you," Patroclus replied, brief irritation tumbling across his face. Sensing his annoyance, Achilles brushed Patroclus's hair with careful fingers. 

"I mean no offense, my dear Patroclus. Only, this is more than we have ever faced. And if I am to meet my fate here—"

"No." Patroclus was surprised at his own fierceness. "Do not speak like that. We agreed. We will make it through this." He couldn't see Achilles's face but he didn't need to. He would know Achilles anywhere, would know him in death. "I will fight by your side. As long as I live, who could harm you?" Patroclus attempted to lighten his voice, to joke as if he were the protector, but it fell flat. 

"I suppose." Achilles breathed deeply, his nose brushing the top of Patroclus's head. "I know it is pointless to argue. I merely wish for you to know my feelings." 

"Always." He leaned down, brushed their lips together as one hand threaded through Achilles's hair. "I will be safest with you," he whispered against Achilles's lips. 

"You would be safest in Greece," Achilles replied, but his heart wasn't in it. He reached up and pulled Patroclus closer, the kiss deepening and that was the end of the conversation. 

In death, Patroclus sometimes found himself running a finger over his lips, as if he could recall the feeling of a kiss and in denial that the memory was fading. Everything remained the same, but nothing was tangible. 

Patroclus wasn't sure what would be worse. Forgetting Achilles or forgetting himself. 

That day — or night, as time was unreal and everything always glowed green in the Elysium fields — Patroclus found his mind drifting when another spirit approached him. This one was tall, enough so that Patroclus had a brief moment of concern that Ajax had found him after all this time. 

But he was wearing no prized armor, only a brown cloak that concealed his visage. Patroclus watched him with one eye closed. He didn't need both. He knew who this was. 

The stranger stood several yards away, not quite approaching but not staying away. Patroclus could not stop his heart from beating faster, could feel his breath catch. He was a ghost but he had never felt so alive. 

"I have a question for you, shade," the stranger asked in a low voice. Patroclus tilted his head, silently permitting him to continue. "If you were to see an old — old friend, one whom had left you many years ago, and that friend said he was very sorry—"

Swiftly, Patroclus stood. The stranger faltered as Patroclus crossed the distance between them. In a fluid movement, he pulled the cloak off Achilles and tossed it aside. 

A lump formed in Patroclus's throat. He could hardly look at the man in front of him, could hardly comprehend that it was his Achilles standing here in his prime, that it was his Achilles with the sky eyes and the wheat hair. He wore his simple armor. His spear was strapped to his back. He had a thin woven circlet pushing his hair out of his eyes. 

He was whole. He was here. 

"I am sorry," Achilles said. "I am so sorry, Patroclus. My — my heart." He flinched. "If I still have the honor to call you that." 

"Philtatos." Patroclus stopped. "Achilles." 

As if his strings were once again cut, Achilles fell to his knees. Patroclus went to him, held him in his arms. Achilles sobbed. 

"I am sorry. I am sorry. Patroclus. Patroclus.  _ Patroclus— _ " Achilles buried his face in Patroclus's tunic, cried into the ghostly fabric. His fingers tugged on the cloth, his entire body shuddering. 

Patroclus held him steady, the harbor in the storm. They were not disturbed. 

**_Plus One — Theseus (Again)_ **

Patroclus was smiling. He was solitary for the time being, but he knew that would not be the case for long. After all, Achilles made the trip frequently. Zagreus hardly needed him anymore and Lord Hades did not seem to mind all that much, more preoccupied with the escape attempts that continued to confound him. 

Though he was dead, Patroclus had never felt better. 

His good mood slipped away like water on sealskin when an unfortunately familiar face approached. 

"What is it?" Patroclus snapped at Theseus.

"Why, I merely came to see if you had changed your mind at all! If you are so hostile, perhaps we should settle the matter man-to-man?" Theseus grinned, crossing his arms so he could pop his biceps. "You remain the only spirit in Elysium who has not even set foot in the arena. You know not what you are missing!" 

Patroclus shook his head. "I have no interest in fighting you." He hadn't yet determined how to track time in this realm, but something under his skin told him that Achilles should return soon. A sixth sense, perhaps, one that spoke as to their connection. He didn't care as long as he was correct. 

Theseus scoffed, apparently not accepting that response so easily. "It does not have to be very long. Just a measure of our strength, so we shall see who is stronger. I shall not even include Asterius — that is why I came alone!" He posed, very happy with himself. Patroclus didn't react. 

With a tuff, Theseus placed his hands on his hips. "I shall never understand you. What shall it take for you to agree to a friendly fight amongst us heroes? Certainly you are no champion, but I daresay that a man of your stature must put up some good challenge!"

He almost responded with a more direct dismissal, but Patroclus realized they were not alone. He found himself smirking. Theseus saw and misunderstood.

"Oh, you are interested! Perhaps you think that you shall overcome my resolve? I must inform you that—"

"No," Patroclus interrupted. "I still care not for your fights. But I know of one who will gladly step into the arena with you." 

Theseus raised an eyebrow, resembling for an instance a large hound. "And who shall that be?" 

"Philtatos, is this shade bothering you?" Achilles questioned, stepping up to the two. 

"He seeks someone to fight him in the arena Elysium holds," Patroclus replied. 

Achilles loomed behind Theseus, boasting several meaningful inches over the other. He was not wearing his war armor and his spear wasn't even on his person, but he still managed to invoke the same heroic presence that had frightened the greatest at Troy, had convinced the gods themselves to interfere out of fear that the war would end too soon. Theseus wilted. 

"A fight for glory? Well, I had thought those below me, but…" Achilles locked eyes with Patroclus. A moment passed. Not even a breeze dared move. Patroclus nodded. Achilles grinned. "I shall make an exception for you." 

Theseus scowled, unaccustomed to fear. "And who are you anyways? I have not seen you around before!" 

Achilles flexed. Patroclus did always love his arms. "I am Achilles, hero of heroes."

"But you may call him the champion of Elysium," Patroclus added.  _ Zagreus will be sorry he missed this, _ he thought. Personally, he knew he would remember the way Theseus stepped back in surprise for the rest of his undead life. 

After all, if it was a fight for Patroclus, then Achilles would not lose. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to scream about Patrochilles with me on [Twitter.](https://twitter.com/ashes8012)
> 
> Also, if you like Hades then come join us on Discord: https://discord.gg/BGvR9Jv


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